


She has never been fond of blue eyes

by everythingabouthatship



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingabouthatship/pseuds/everythingabouthatship
Summary: Some thoughts I had about our power couple, written in Vera’s POV, by someone that never wrote in English (yes, that’s me).Nothing special, but I always love reading your works, so I thought I could share too! Hope you like it 💙
Relationships: Hamish Duke/Vera Stone
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	She has never been fond of blue eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I wrote this while making a YouTube fan video, in which I tried to express the same things. You can find it in the End Notes!

She has never been fond of blue eyes; dirty blond and blue-eyed were definitely not her types.  
Dark hair and dark eyes on the other hand had an intensity of their own that was an entirely different thing, and she always liked that; powerful, warm and intense, whether it was about eyes, people, drinks, or anything else she could think of.

But those eyes... his blue eyes, for some reason she couldn’t fully figure out yet, intrigued her from the very beginning.

It’s hard to explain what she saw in his eyes that day.  
There was a good dose of confidence and determination, combined with all the sincerity of the world; two crystal clear, deep ponds that seemed to let you see every thought underneath and shield all the secrets of the universe at the same time.

You could read it in those eyes, he was eager to do the right thing, to help the one he cares about, and to be faithful to his oath, no matter what; a feeling she was particularly familiar with.  
Like her, he seemed to be willing to do anything for the “greater good”.  
Whether or not the greater good he was fighting for was the same she has been fighting for - in this last part of her life at least - was another matter, that did not scratch her admiration for him.  
They were similar, but on opposite sides and with opposite goals.

He had always been polite; he was clean, respectful, and with an excellent sense of style, all qualities she admired in a man. He did not once complain about having to team up with her, and he showed respect, despite her being “the enemy”- which is way more than she could say about the other wolves.  
He was the older, the most mature and calm between the four. No wonder he was their leader.

Of course, she also saw a discrete dose of anger in his eyes, blended with some profound sadness and a little something she was sure was a deep, rooted pain, buried down in his heart; he had lost someone, someone important. And the way he looked at her made her think the Order was involved.  
Not that it surprised her; the Order not infrequently related to unpleasant things, for both the members and the foreigners who crossed paths with them. She was very aware of that.

There were hidden wounds in his heart, the type that never completely heals and always leaves scars behind. Another aspect she related to and that connected them, she could feel it, how their burdens almost linked through their eyes every time they glanced at each other for more than a couple of seconds.

And he felt it too.

She could tell, from the way his eyes were constantly looking for hers whenever they stood in the same room.  
She envied him. He could afford to let his eyes stare at her with that intensity that makes her only want to stare back, just to feel it one more time.

There was some sort of tension building up between them, always growing, always increasing; a good tension, an intriguing one.

Although most of the time she managed to suppress and contain the instinct of staring back, even to ignore him and act like if she didn’t know he was there - especially with other acolytes around - she could feel it; she could always feel it, intruding, piercing through her, making her shudder at the thought that maybe, one day, they would have found themselves alone in the same room, with no one there to interrupt the wave of feelings that who knows where it could led them.

From the first moment she saw him, she knew she needed to be careful.  
As much as intriguing she could find him, the situation was rather delicate; he was a problem for the Order - God, he was the leader of the problems for the Order. Potentially dangerous, and potentially resentful.

After the first, intense gaze, she saw him fight as well.  
She had to confess, they made quite a good team together; they took care of all the Order adepts. Not that she had any doubts - she could have easily dealt with them herself - but she had to admit she enjoyed fighting by his side.

She admired how he used his strength always in a controlled way; he did not once act recklessly (well, almost) nor in any way that could put her in danger.  
He was clearly used to fight in a team, and something made her think he was also used to fight side by side with someone else, in a “two people against the world” kind of way.  
It made her wonder if the dear one he lost could have been a significant “she” that once fought beside him in her place.

When the fight was over, he changed back into his human form. In the limited time that he needed to reach the robe he left inside, she noticed how he dedicated a lot of time to his physical training too, making him gain some extra few points; not that he needed any at that point.

“Satisfied?” he muttered, catching his breath from the just-ended fight, proceeding toward the door.  
“Huh?” she herself, besides being lost in her thoughts, was waiting for the rush of adrenaline flowing into her body to worn out.  
“No killings” he smirked, while he lingered with his robe open, his upper body still exposed. If she hadn’t majored in cold heart bitch - as she liked to call the ability developed over time of acting like nothing could touch her - that view, that smirk, that tone, combined with those eyes and that deep look, might have had quite an effect on her.

And maybe it did, just a little.

“You were good” he said, still panting, “with… the magic” he gestured vaguely.  
“You were not bad either. With your… wolf thing,” she answered, trying to keep her voice as cold as possible.  
His smirk intensified as she rushed on the way to the door, surpassing him just as he was about to get out.

Him being around at the temple with his memories erased made her let her guard down. She couldn’t resist teasing him - a sort of revenge for how he made her feel with his smirks and not closed robe - and he always responded in kind.  
She thought him as less of a danger with no werewolves or negative Order-related feelings, and she let him conquer her more with his incredible and unexpected ability with drinks.

That time he entered with that delicious cocktail, interrupting her reunion with Kepler… that day the level of intensity between their eyes reached almost unbearable heights; the flirt between the two of them was becoming more real and concrete with each passing day.

He always knew how to act and answer to get her attention and interest.

Vera knew it was only a matter of time, but sooner or later they would have been alone once more, with no one to interrupt them, and there was only one way things could evolve.

And that happened.

He was standing alone in front of the counter.  
She approached him, with a spark of anticipation in her eyes, and once more teased him with an almost excessively emphasized “Thank _you_ ”.  
He hesitated only for a moment before taking the bait, making the next step.

“I can make you another, Grand Magus…”  
her heart left a beat suspended with his words, pending for the end of the sentence  
“…if you like.”

There it was.

The chance to see where this intricate knot of feelings could get them.

Just the right words, with just the right look.  
“Bring me something in a tall glass.”  
Just the right answer, with just the right tone.  
She was fascinated by their game.

After that, the “drinks” become a usual thing, both at the temple and at her place.  
Some looks were secretly exchanged, and as much as she didn’t want to admit that, they both started growing affection for each other.  
She tried to keep things cold; she felt both the need to take care of him, relieving the burden he was bearing inside - maybe hoping to relieve hers too in the process - and to make him grow and strengthen him, in order to protect him.

She could not let him get too close to her.  
First, because she was the first person he needed protection from, and second because she needed to protect herself from him.  
The Knights got their memories back, and he lied to her about that. They stole the Order’s reliquary.  
She was not mad at him, she understood, she had to keep things from him too, that the order took their memories in the first place; they were still similar but on opposite sides and with opposite goals after all.

And for how wrong this might seem, it intrigued her even more.

But it was more than that.

She enjoyed what their relationship, whatever it was.  
They kept private and “opposite sides” life separated. They both knew there were things they couldn’t talk to the other about, and they were both fine with that.

It was all about tactical moves, and they managed to not let it get between them.  
They protected and warned each other, when possible, and never got “mad” about the secrets, on the contrary, they always ended up admiring the other and their leading ability even more.

But what about now?

Everyone at the temple (including the other wolves) seemed to think he had become her puppy, her lapdog.

But the truth?

The truth was that she was the one to first broke their equilibrium of pure respect, the atmosphere of being two powerful leaders that needed no help but still supported each other.  
She was powerless, and not only she told him, but she let him see the most fragile part of her, the part she usually let dwell under the cold-heart bitch mask.  
The only reason she let that happen was, well, because it was him.

But was it the right choice?

Couldn’t they see _she_ was the puppy? She definitely felt like one.  
He was the one protecting her and showing her his support, exactly what you would expect from the wonderful person he is; she was the one that needed protection and - for how much she hated to admit that - needed him.  
She felt vulnerable, both because she showed him her weakness and because, well, she had no magic.

A little puppy that needed the Big Wolf Leader to guard her, in case anything happens.  
A little puppy with attitude and that would have never acted like one - she was still Vera Stone, Counsellor at Belgrave’s University and Grand Magus of the Order of the Blue Rose, and of course he kept giving her the respect she was due - but still a puppy.

She was used to dealing with things by herself.

She couldn’t remember the last time she allowed herself to get that close to anyone else; yes, “close” felt like the right word.

It was almost as if for all this time she kept building a wall, the highest wall she could build, to keep people at a distance and maybe yes, caring for them, helping them, maybe having feelings for them too, but always from the other side of the wall.  
By now, it had become a very high and thick, resistant wall she was really proud of.

And yet all it took was a pair of sincere blue eyes - seeing the tears that didn’t dare to get out of hers - to rain down from the sky and completely envelop her, soaking, infiltrating the little cracks on the wall, streaming down between her hair and on her face in place of those tears that had been stuck inside of her for so long, hell, maybe too long.

And with the rain, the feelings and the words she cemented both in the wall and down her throat were finally released, but she didn’t get lost in the storm; his eyes, that were sky, rain, and sea all around her, sustained, braced and guided her, making her feel safe in the chaos of emotions she was living.

And she thought that perhaps, just for once, with him by her side, things could end up not so bad;  
and that maybe, just maybe, it was time to let someone care for her, without worrying too much about the consequences.

Just him, just Hamish.

Just for this one, single time.

**Author's Note:**

> The vid: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8-Hxf_xZSE
> 
> I'd be happy to know what feels more like "Vermish" to you :D


End file.
